Overfire
by Calcifer179
Summary: Hyper-Lethal: there's only one other Spartan with that rating... Eden-B312 has never been a team player. Her superiors, her brother and sister Spartans, and marines alike know her as a lone-wolf. The Grim. So how will she manage being tossed in with a battle-tested team like Noble? If you think the rating should be changed due to violence then let me know.
1. Prologue- Lone Wolf

**A/N:** I honestly don't know how far I am going to take this story, but I _hope _it can become a long one. It will follow along the campaign of Reach, at least for now. I know this kind of thing has been done before -and probably far better than this- but I had to put in my two cents worth.

Thanks to my beta thelittlestteacup.

**Prologue**

**Lone Wolf **

**20:00 Hours. August 30, 2552. Aszod Ship-Breaking Yards. **

**Eden-B312**

I was never a team player and everyone knew it. Even my superiors would call me the Lone-Wolf. The _Grim._

They must have decided to give me another chance, one _last_ chance, to prove I could be more than just an assassin and a predator.

Noble Team.

Noble Six.

My salvation.

Yeah, that worked out just _great_. Here I am again. Always the lone-wolf. And that concussion round had almost taken my fucking head off.

I rip my ruined helmet off and toss it aside into the dust, ignoring the flow of hot blood flooding down the left side of my face. Reaching out, I grab my weapon and pull myself unsteadily to my feet.

Sangheili Zealots. I hate Elites.

I open fire, full auto with my caseless SMG, and shred through its shields and flesh in seconds, causing a danse macabre. Spurts of brilliant indigo blood arc from the creatures wounds, adding a bright splash of colour to the dusty ruins around me.

Zealots hunt in packs though. I turn hastily to ram my shoulder pauldron up into the mandibles of a second Elite, feeling them crunch together, sickening and satisfying at the same time. He crumples at my feet and I put him down fast with a single round from my sidearm. Waste not, want not.

I let the battle calm take me then. It's easy. Like slipping underwater. Every Spartan knows it. Two more Elites charge me, almost in slow-motion it seems, and I cut them down, taking fire all the same. A part of me registers the fact that my shields are down and plasma is burning quick through my armour, biting at my skin, but I don't feel it.

I've lost count of how many I've killed. Eventually, however, one gets lucky and tackles me into the dirt. He's just pulled out his Energy Dagger when I plant my boots against his chest and kick, sending him sprawling off me. Another one tries desperately to decapitate me while I'm down, but I block the path of his swing with my bracer, early enough that it doesn't cut too deep, and then break his jaw with a solid punch. It's practically comical the way his head snaps back, blood and fangs flying.

They are swarming me now. One has my wrists and another is pinning down my legs. For the first time in my life I almost feel vulnerable.

The Sangheili whose mouth I busted is back. He distastefully spits out some more purple blood, and then raises his Energy Sword to finish me.

I was never a team player.


	2. Noble Actual

**A/N**: To the greatest sister/beta in the 'Verse- thelittlestteacup

**Chapter 1**

**Noble Actual**

**07:28 Hours. July 24, 2552. Planet Reach.**

**Eden-B312 **

I was sitting alone in the back of a Troop 'Hog, being driven to minute UNSC outpost out in the mountains. Three months ago a team of Spartans known as Noble Team had coordinated and participated in the Battle of Fumirole, an assault on a Covenant CCS-class battlecruiser. One member of that team had completed the mission himself, delivering a nuclear device to the ship's loading dock. He hadn't survived the resulting explosion. His name was Thom. And I'm his replacement.

Absentmindedly I turned my helmet over in my hands, running my fingers along the scarred alloy. I could never forget the first time I saw it, this suit that had been a second skin to me for so long. No Spartan could. Walking down that pristine white corridor, the tiles were cool against my bare feet, and fresh augmentations were running through my veins. And then there, at the end, was one of the most sophisticated pieces of military equipment ever created.

I remember starring into the visor of the Mark V[B] helmet, with a UA/HUL overhaul. The shoulder pauldrons were simple and symmetrical, UA/Base Security models, solid and sleek. The chestplate featured a collar guard, and vertical sheath for a combat knife. There was a hardened bracer on the left wrist, handy in melee, and a soft case strapped to the left thigh, 'for all the stuff you can't fit anywhere else'. The knee guards were Gungnir models, maximum protection with maximum mobility. The whole thing was matte black. Even the visor.

It was perfect. And it was _mine_.

The Warthog lurched beneath me, effectively breaking me from the memory.

"Sorry," the driver called back over the din of the engine, "We're almost there. The outpost is just over this next ridge."

I grunted an acknowledgment and fit my helmet on, as two UH-144 Falcons roared past overhead. I assumed correctly that they were heading to the same place we were, likely coming back from a patrol run. The driver slowed the Warthog to a stop as we reached the outpost, and I jumped out, snow crunching beneath my feet.

Immediately I noticed a green garbed Spartan sitting in the side of one of the two Flacons that had landed ahead of us. He was meticulously loading rounds into the magazine of a sniper rifle. I had a dossier on each member of Noble Team, so I recognized him. Jun-A266. His reputation as a marksman was unmatched. Though he barely seemed to glance up at me as I passed, I still knew he was registering everything about me. Hyperaware of my every move.

I strode past him and up the small set of steps leading into the command structure, catching the tail end of a conversation drifting out the open doors.

"...The Office of Naval intelligence believes the deployment of a Spartan team is a gross misallocation of valuable resources. I disagree."

I recognized the voice as Colonel Holland, no doubt briefing Noble on a new objective. It appeared that my arrival was timed quite perfectly.

My march stopped just inside the doors. A large Spartan, his posture relaxed as he sat upon a stack of ammo crates, was sharpening a wicked looking blade against his oversized shoulder pauldron. He looked up at my entrance and I could see the visage of a shattered skull carved into his faceplate. I knew him from his dossier instantly. Emile-A239. Noble Team's attack dog.

"So that's our new number six."

The deep, accented, but surprisingly friendly voice came from a massive figure standing in the corner. Jorge-025. The only Spartan II present. One of the old breed. If I thought Emile was big...this guy...He took me in with dark eyes, that carried more emotion than any Spartan I'd met before.

Tearing my gaze away from him, I could make out the Commanders back. He was talking to a holographic display showing the Colonel on the other line. I had only taken half a step in his direction when something hard and unyielding shot out in front of me, blocking my path. A cybernetic arm. The steely blue gaze of Catherine-B320 assessed me.

"Been a while," she smirked, though it was more a baring of teeth.

"Miss me?"

"Kat, you know her?" Emile asked, interrupting our little standoff, with mild interest colouring his tone.

"No, I don't," she muttered and pushed away from me.

_Ouch_. To be honest though, her response didn't surprise me. We had trained together in Beta Company, sure, but we were never close. She was the analyst, the hacker and the tactician. I was the hunter the killer and the lethal vector. We didn't mesh.

Actually, I didn't really mesh with any of the other candidates. It was clear from the start that I didn't play well with others. A fact that almost had me vetted from Beta Company, they were big on cohesion after what happened to Alpha. However, Deep Winter, the AI stationed at Camp Currahee to watch over our training, hadn't wanted to waste my _talent_, so instead I was extracted from the company and deployed on my own. I was 12.

"Commander," Kat called over her shoulder, breaking my reverie.

The blue commando just gave me a half glance, and then a moment later he turned back to the monitor, his appraisal finished.

"Anyone claim responsibility, sir?" He continued his conversation.

Emile gave an amused snort and went back to sharpening his Kukri.

"Don't let it get to you, kid. Carter's always like that." The big man, Jorge, stepped up to me. He was hefting a gun almost as big as I was with apparent ease.

"I think the Commander has his reasons with this one," Kat muttered, brushing past me and out the door. I watched her exit, thinking maybe her dislike for me was stronger than I had realized.

The Commander finally ended his chat with the Colonel and, picking up his helmet, walked over to stand squarely in front of me.

"Lieutenant."

"Commander," I addressed him in turn.

"I'm Carter, Noble team's leader, you'll be riding with me. You've met Kat, Noble Two, Emile and Jorge, Four and Five. You probably saw Jun, Noble Three, on your way in."

We walked while he talked, and he fit his helmet on. The others had already packed up, and I watched as Kat, followed by Emile and Jorge, piled into the second Falcon. Carter was leading me towards the closer one, were Jun was already set up, his rifle laid out across his lap.

"I've read your file, Eden. Even the parts the ONI sensors didn't want me to see," he said as we climbed aboard. I was placed next to the rifleman, while Carter took his seat across from us.

"We have a problem, Commander?" I asked him. Not many people had seen my unabridged history. And even fewer had liked what they saw.

"Well, that's up to you. Personally, I'm just glad to have Noble up to full strength. But that lone wolf stuff has to stay behind. We're a team. Clear?"

The Falcon got airborne, the rotors picking up a large cloud of dust as we climbed skywards. The valley was quite beautiful from this view. Rocky grasslands stretched for miles, a light dusting of snow barely covering the greenery, while white capped mountains encircled us on all sides.

Could I do it? Could I really be Noble Six? In nine years I'd barely served with anything more than a partner. This team had survived countless battles together, against Covenant and Insurrectionists alike. They were more a family than a squad. The prospect of stepping into that...it was daunting.

"_Grim_." My head snapped up at the name. "Are. We. Clear?"

Even between our visors our eyes managed to lock. Though I heard the name often enough, not many people just came out and called me that to my face.

"Yes, sir."

Jun bumped my shoulder with his, gaining my attention.

"Welcome to Reach."


	3. The Bark

**A/N: **Originally this chapter was a _lot_ longer. But I decided to split the Winter Contingency mission up to make it flow better. Hope I'm not hugging to the canon story too closely, I know that can be annoying. Thanks again to my beta thelittlestteacup. Links to her stuff are on my profile. If you like The Walking Dead then you should totes check her out, she is a far better writer than I am and I know she'd appreciate it.

**Chapter 2**

**The Bark **

**09:28 Hours. July 24, 2552. Visegrád. **

**Eden-B312**

The Commander had briefed us during the flight. We were being sent to investigate the loss of communications with a relay outpost out in Visegrád, a remote agricultural region of Reach. This relay was a vital military resource, it was responsible for the planet's communication to the rest of the UNSC. Colonel Holland had sent a team of troopers in the previous night, but he hadn't heard from them in hours. And now the marines had been officially declared MIA. Sabotage by local Insurrectionist forces was suspected. Our mission: locate the downed relay, introduce ourselves to whoever took it, and finally, get Kat under the hood so she could get the station back online. Finding the missing marines was a secondary objective.

"Sir, why would rebels want to cut off Reach from the rest of the colonies?" Jorge's question resonated through each of our COMS.

I'd also been thinking along the same line. The Innies wouldn't pick a fight with Reach, they went for targets their own size, that's just how they operated. It wasn't cowardice, it was practicality, and they had no reason to change their tactics now. Unless...it wasn't Innies.

"You get a chance, maybe you can ask them, Jorge," Carter responded evenly. He had to have shared my suspicions, yet he was keeping his cool.

"Commander, we just lost our signal with HQ," the aqua Spartan waved us from the second Falcon.

"Backup channels?"

"Searching...nada. Can't say what's jamming us."

I bet she could hazard a guess. No Innie tech could stump Kat like that. For all the differences we had, I couldn't deny that she was truly brilliant when it came to her field.

"You heard her. Dead zone confirmed. Command will not be keeping us company on this trip."

"I'm lonely already," Emile responded dryly, and I grinned inside my helmet. This was getting closer to how I usually operated.

The Falcons hugged close to the cliffs as we soared around the mountain range, and the massive satellite dish of the Visegrád Relay came into view. The outpost itself was built into the hillside beneath it, and the terrain around was dominated by farms, with a few civilian houses. Massive gnarled trees dotted the landscape, rising up in twisting spires.

"Shoot down attempts are likely, so keep your distance," Carter called out to the pilot.

"Yes, sir!"

"I'm reading a distress beacon," Kat announced, gesturing downwards and drawing our attention to a plume of black smoke rising from a collection of settlements.

"Could be our missing troopers..." Carter mused. I could tell he was weighing the odds. The Relay was our primary objective, but the beacon was closer. His deliberation was fairly quick, "Let's check it out."

"We are _Noble_ Team after all," I muttered, "Let's save some troopers, Hell, maybe even a few civies while we're at it."

"Put us down on the bluff," he instructed the pilot, ignoring my comment, though it drew a chuckle from Emile. "Jun, I want your eyes in the sky."

"Sir."

The Falcons landed, across from each other, at the top of a small hill made up of a series of paddy-like crops. A trail lead down to a circular structure below us, little more than a grain shed, but this was the source of the smoke plume and distress beacon. The others had already piled out of their Falcon and were beginning to move down the path.

"Let's go," Carter said, throwing me a glance, before he jumped from the transport and quickly took lead of the team, "Spread out, guys. Watch the approach."

I climbed out after him, Jun gave me a brief nod, and then the Falcon rose upwards, gaining altitude quickly. It was reassuring to know we had cover from above should we need it. Noble Team progressed down the hill together with practiced cohesion. Every move they made was perfectly choreographed, and in comparison I seemed a little out of step, lingering at the edge of the pack.

Emile and I took cover behind a large boulder driven into the hillside halfway down. He gave an appreciative whistle as he ran an eye over my weapon. I carried a specialized variant of the M7 Caseless Submachine Gun, the M7S, made popular by Helljumpers. It featured an external flash and sound suppresser, with an under-mounted flashlight, and a reflex sight. The sidearm at my hip was also specialized. An M6S/SOCOM. Integrated silencer and muzzle brake, and a twelve-round magazine of .50 caliber Semi Armour Piercing-High Penetration rounds. SAP-HP. The sights of both weapons were smart, 4x, and linked directly into the heads up display of my visor.

"Not exactly standard issue," he observed.

I shrugged.

"I know a guy."

"Uh-huh."

With surprising agility he began mantling the boulder, and quickly reached the top. Bringing the stock of his shotgun up to his shoulder, he surveyed the area ahead of us.

"We got a Warthog burning by that grain shed. No movement, but I'm guessing the beacon's down there somewhere. "

"Roger that, let's move in," Carter commanded.

Emile dropped from the boulder and landed with a neat roll, and a head start. The rest of us picked our way down the incline and to the shed, then set up a makeshift perimeter around the wrecked vehicle, while the CQC specialist crouched down and began sifting through the rubble.

The Warthog was indeed burning. It looked like it had been T-boned by a Scorpion, the gun was twisted and I could only count three tyres, just one of which was still actually attached to the vehicle.

"Found the beacon," he tossed the red box-like object casually over his shoulder, yet Kat managed to catch it easily, and began a quick examination.

"It's military...can't make out any ID."

"So where are the troopers?" Jorge wondered out loud.

"There's a lot of blood on the ground," I pointed out. "I doubt they'd be moving anywhere on their own."

"I'm not seeing any explosive residue," Jun supplied from the Falcon circling above us.

"Plasma, maybe." Emile suggested, and I had to agree. Considering the damage, the lack of 'ex residue certainly made plasma a viable assumption.

"Can't be. Not on Reach."

"Keep telling yourself that, big man," I snorted. Jorge was friendly enough, but he seemed a little naive and sentimental.

"All right, Noble," Carter interjected, "Let's just press on. We'll check out those structures up ahead. Six, take point."

"My pleasure," I nodded in affirmation, sprinting ahead of the squad.

There was a track, of sorts, that lead around the cliffs to the next set of structures. It had been raining lightly for a while now, and the path had become muddy and uneven, causing my boots to sink into the muck with every step, making an unpleasant squelching sound.

There was a rustle in bushes lining the path ahead of me, and I stopped dead, readying my weapon. I heard the rest of the team freeze behind me in response. A few tense moments passed without event, and I was almost about to call the all clear, when suddenly a large bird-like creature startled from the tall grass and rushed right past me. It was only my heightened reflexes that saved the beast from getting perforated by bullets.

"Hell was that?! An Emu?" I asked, bewildered.

"Moa," Kat chuckled. "You okay there, Grim? I hear they pack a nasty bite."

"I'm peachy keen, thanks for asking," I muttered, rolling my shoulders to loosen them up, and then continuing up the path.

I slowed down a little as we approached the settlements, moving more stealthily, and using cover whenever I could. From this distance I could see the buildings had some external damage. A few broken windows, and the doors looked like they had been kicked in.

I stacked up beside the splintered doorway of the first building, and Emile moved in at my six. He tapped my shoulder, the signal that he was ready, and together we cautiously stepped inside. The place was a mess. The floor covered in shattered glass from the busted skylight and almost every piece of furniture was in ruins, including the kitchen table, which had been flipped completely upside down. The contents of the mantle above the fireplace had been spilled onto the stone tiles.

I nudged the frame of a picture with my foot. The glass had been cracked, but the image was still visible. It showed a family of five, two little boys were standing between their parents, and a baby girl was in her mother's arms. It had been taken in front of this very fireplace.

I heard a gasp behind me, caught movement in my peripheral vision and responded immediately. I spun around to face the disturbance, bringing my SMG up at the same time, and catching a glimpse of someone's shoe disappearing through the back door.

"Hey!"

I sprinted after them, ignoring Carters warning shouts. I flung the door open and burst through into a small courtyard, grabbing the man by the collar before he could take another two steps. I gave him a shove that sent him sprawling into the pavement.

"_I didn't do anything!_" He shouted in panicked Hungarian. The entrance to the building ahead of us, where he'd been running to, creaked open, and more terrified faces appeared. The man tried to rise shakily to his feet, still whimpering in Hungarian, but I pushed him back down threateningly with the barrel of my gun.

"_Hey, on your fucking knees!_" I commanded in the same tongue, then risked a glance over my shoulder at Emile. "Back me up."

He nodded and moved up to my flank, training his boomstick on the others in the doorway. The rest of Noble had caught up now as well, and they filed into the square.

"They're not rebels, they're farmers. Look at them." Jorge chided me. He had a point, these guys looked pretty ragged, their clothes torn and caked with mud. But hey, the guy ran, what was I supposed to do?

"Ask them what they're doing here," Carter ordered.

I relayed the question to the man, and he began babbling on. I found it a little difficult to keep up, but translated what I could.

"They're hiding, sir. Neighbours were attacked last night...they heard gunfire...screams...Something in the fields...killed his son."

"Some_thing_?" Emile asked, apprehensively.

Jun came through the COMS again, and he sounded urgent now.

"Commander, be advised. I'm reading heat signatures at the structure directly east from your position."

"Copy that," Carter turned to Jorge and pointed to the civies. "Get them back inside."

The big man nodded and started ushering the distressed farmers back into the house, speaking to them in quiet, reassuring, tones.

"Noble Team, let's move. And double time in."


	4. The Bite

**A/N: **Sorry, this took longer than I'd thought to get finished, and I'm still not entirely sure about it, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway. Thanks to my beta thelittlestteacup, of course.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing

**Chapter 3**

**The Bite**

**09:43 Hours. July 24, 2552. Visegrád**

**Eden-B312**

Bodies. And blood. A _lot_ of blood. It was pooled on the floor, splattered on the walls and even dripping from the ceiling. This was what we'd walked into when we had breached the building Jun lead us to.

"Lend me your eyes, Commander. What are you seeing?" The rifleman asked, a little hesitantly.

Carter walked slowly further into the room, and crouched down in front of two uniformed stiffs that had been brutally pinned to the wall with their own bayonets. I followed him in, being forced to step gingerly over a few corpses in the process.

"Casualties...civilian and military. Two of our missing troopers by the looks of it," he sighed, and relieved the soldiers of their tags, stuffing them into his soft case.

"They've been tortured...real messy too," I added, my gaze trailing across the mutilated bodies.

"I supposed you'd have done a better job of it, huh?" Kat muttered, though the jab was halfhearted. She was still lingering in the doorway, her shadow spilling into the darkened room, obviously not keen on entering the horror show.

"Actually, yeah, I would have," I replied, lifting a dead man's chin and revealing his empty eye sockets to the light, "These guys weren't done for information. This was fun."

"Oh, Hell..." Jorge sucked in a sharp breath.

"Alright, Noble-"

Carter was cut off abruptly by a loud crash from the roof above us, and my motion tracker started having a fit, for a brief moment targets started popping up all over the place. Everyone brought their weapons up in an instant. The impact was immediately followed by a scrambling along the corrugated iron sheets, another crash, and then silence.

"Jun..."

"I got nothing, Commander. Whatever it was, it was fast."

"Move into the courtyard Noble," he instructed.

I made to exit, but paused, catching sight of two peculiar bodies that had been dragged into the corner. They were peculiar in the fact that they were much smaller than the others, just children, but they had been killed and tortured all the same by the looks of it. With a shock I realized I recognized those two little boys...

"Problem?" Emile asked.

"No...right behind you."

My gaze flickered quickly around the room, searching for the rest of the family, but finding none of them. I didn't know whether I was relieved or not. We passed down a short corridor, and then up a flight of stairs and into a long room with several wide windows overlooking the courtyard outside. It was a wide space, dominated by a couple of hayshed's, some farming equipment and a small wind turbine. A soft decline lead down to a shallow river, and vast fields and crops covered the land on the other side.

As we crossed the windowed room, several things all happened seemingly simultaneously. A flash of movement outside drew our attention, Emile swore, Carter started barking orders, and I lilted "I told you so" to Jorge.

The Covenant were on Reach.

A lone Skirmisher, obviously acting as a sentinel, had spotted us and began squawking an alarm, a horrible screeching noise that managed to penetrate your helmet and rattle around inside your skull. I silenced him with a muted burst of gunfire through the glass, and his limp body tumbled from the roof of a hayshed and fell to the ground in a heap, thick purple blood staining the grass.

His brethren quickly bolted forward, running into the basement level beneath us, and at the same time a column of Grunts filed around the corner and into the yard. Carter dropped two of them with his battle rifle before the rest found cover and began firing back, flashes of green in our general direction, with their plasma pistols.

"Kat, Emile, defend the lower level," he called between the plasma volleys, "Jorge, sweep left, we're about to be flanked."

A few minutes ago this valley had been as silent as the grave it had become. Now we were in an all out firefight, and there only seemed to be more hostiles on the way, judging by the low hum I recognized as the energy field generator of a Spirit drop ship. Banshees, likely the Spirit's escort, had also begun swooping in, and were engaging our own Falcon's in the sky above.

I mowed down a second column of Grunts as they came into view, and then paused during my reload, my tactical eye had picked up on something, and it took me a second to register what it was. A rusted old generator sat out in the open, connected to a rather large fuel pump.

I acted on pure instinct, not giving it a second thought as I rammed a fresh magazine into my weapon. _Thud_, _thud_, _**thik**__! _A jet of flame burst from the dime sized whole I'd created in the side of the tank.

Carters eyes flicked between me and the hissing fuel pump.

"Cover!"

Three, two... _BOOM!_

Anything still breathing in the yard was instantly turned into red mist and every window shattered in chorus, showering glass down onto us and any enemy that had made it inside evenly. Our armour protected us from the shards, no problem, but some of the covenant weren't so lucky. I witnessed one Kig-Yar Skirmisher get a piece of shrapnel in the eye. One clawed hand clutched its wound, while the other waved in the air in shrill panic. Emile finished it with his Kukri knife, driving it straight down to crack through its feathered skull.

"A heads up would be appreciated before you pull shit like that, Lieutenant," Carter growled.

"Sorry, boss man, sir!"

Jun came back over the COMS then, sounding out of breath, and looking up I saw that his Falcon had dirty black smoke pouring from one of the engines; still, the pilot was somehow managing to keep it airborne.

"Banshee's are down, but the Spirit's dropping more troops off on the other side of the river. We can't engage it in this status."

"Copy, Noble Three. Hang back for now," he instructed while we regrouped in the courtyard, Jorge clicking another massive box magazine into his death machine. "We've got no choice Noble; we have to secure that relay."

We tore our way down the slope, kicking up the dewy grass with our massive boots, and dived into the river, taking fire from the Spirit's cannon as it pulled away, the high energy rounds crackling into the water around us and causing it to temporarily boil. I pressed my back up against the shear bank on the other side and wiped mud from my visor while doing a quick head count. It looked like everyone had made it across, and the Spirit was pulling out now, having delivered it's payload. The skies were clear for our Falcons to sweep back in above us. The crack of Jun's rifle was clearly audible, and every shot meant another foe slain. Still there had to have been a few dozen Covenant that had disbanded from that drop ship, a mixture of Grunts, Jackals and Skirmishers. Shock troops for the most part, Covenant cannon fodder, but still not to be underestimated. Our shields were strong and our armour thick, but there is little that plasma can't burn.

Jorge mounted his machine gun atop the embankment and began suppressing them with a hail of tracer rounds, clearly marking his arc of fire. The command to advance didn't even have to be spoken. No one wants to get pinned down in a river bank under plunging fire. I found myself rushing with Emile up the left edge of the hillside, firing upon the enemies' open flank, whilst the rest of Noble advanced in a loose formation, moving from cover to cover and pushing at the panic stricken Covenant forces head on. The whole time Jun kept up a steady rate of deadly accurate sniper fire, picking off any Unggoy or Kig-Yar that broke away from the main mass. A Jackal equipped with a point defence gauntlet, emitting a large shield-like plasma barrier leapt out ahead of me, trying to line his weapon up through the single small cutout in his shield. I quickly aimed a shot at this weak spot, scoring a direct hit on his weapon hand and causing him to reel back in pain. The action exposed his head and torso, and I finished him easily.

I'll admit, it felt good being able to steam role through a platoon like that. Normally I would have been forced to sneak around that type of enemy, but with five other Spartans behind you...Still I didn't want to get too comfy. If I started relying on this team it would only make me weak. I'd begin taking it for granted that someone had my back, and then I'd get a knife in it. With the Covenant on Reach, I suspected I'd be getting pulled out of Noble soon anyway. It was acceptable against Innies, but with a potential alien invasion, it would be too risky to having a wildcard like me in your best deck.

We crested the top of the hill and stepped onto a small plateau of sorts lined with several of the towering, twisted trees that were so common on Reach. It was while we were picking our way through these that a large, scaly arm shot out in front of me, catching me under the chin and knocking me onto my back.

I stared up into the barrel of an Elite's plasma rifle. It said something in its own fluid tongue, which I took to be a taunt. It was only a mechanical whir, followed by a loud crunching sound that saved me. Kat's cybernetic fist connecting with the Elite's face. The creature went sprawling backwards from the blow, and I found the same metal hand pulling me to my feet.

"Don't mention it. Ever," she muttered.

"No problem," I grabbed my fallen SMG and opened fire on the scrambling Elite, cursing in frustration as the 5x23mm bullets simply ricocheted of his shields.

Two more Elites had started engaging Noble, and I recognized their pristine white armour which signified them as Ultras. They were backed up by a team of Grunts, which they commanded with almost ruthless authority. The Unggoy fell quickly, however, to our combined firepower, and that left us outnumbering the Elites two to one.

Carter felled one with a constant stream of fire from his rifle, tearing through its shields then flesh before it could retreat into cover.

My Elite was still trying to recover from Kat's punch, and I didn't waste time closing on it. Kicking it's weapon away and knocking its arms to the side in the same motion, I unsheathed my blade and pushed it down into its chest cavity, giving it rough twist which immediately quieted the creatures movements. When it came to Elites, I had always preferred the up close and personal approach. Shields counted for jack shit against a good knife, being designed only to deflect fast moving objects like bullets and shrapnel.

The last one was finished by Emile, and he made even more of a mess of it than I did. His giant Kukri knife coupled with his boomstick didn't exactly amount to clean kills.

"Alright. Jorge, Eden, you two are with me. We're going to commandeer some civilian transport," Carter signaled up to the second Falcon, which quickly landed in a small clearing nearby. "Kat, Emile, board the Falcon and make straight for the relay. Lock it down, and we'll catch up with you there. I want to find the rest of our troopers."

I bit back a groan at this. Carter just had to face it already, our men were dead, they'd been out here all night in this hell hole. Emile clearly agreed with me, for his own groan was far more obvious. I was beginning to form a clear picture of the makeup of this team. Carter was a solid leader, a real by-the-books soldier, but he had a dangerous streak of wishful thinking. Kat looked like she would follow the man into hell though, and was always ready to come to her commanders defense. Her loyalty was admirable, though it was solely for Carter, she was almost too willing to skirt the rules put in place by the Colonel and the UNSC. Jorge was the human factor, a strong mediator of any conflicts that would arise. He'd likely seen more combat than the rest of us combined, yet nothing had broken him yet. I could respect that at least. Jun was harder to place. He always seemed like he was holding something back, yet his opinion was highly valued in the group. Emile was a warrior. Pure and simple. He might of lacked the subtlety required for more covert operations, and this was likely the only thing stopping him from being a true lethal vector, yet he more than made up for it in a straight up firefight. Myself, I didn't know where I fit in yet. I was stepping into some shoes the rest of Noble would obviously rather leave unfilled.


	5. Creatures of Mercy

**A/N: **Well I think this is the fastest update I've ever done. And my beta thelittlestteacup is awesome. That is all. Oh, and disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Chapter 4**

**Creatures of Mercy **

**10:00 Hours. July 24, 2552. Visegrád**

**Eden-B312**

I sat atop the headrest of my seat in the passenger side of our commandeered vehicle, an open roof flatbed. The height the position offered allowed me the ability to fire over the top of the windshield. Carter was behind the wheel, practically snapping the instrument as he brought us around another sharp, mud churned bend. And Jorge was standing up in the back, gripping the rear of the cabin to steady himself, with his massive gun mounted above it. I was silently praying he wouldn't have need for the weapon, given our arrangement any firing he did would happen right next to my ear, and that would definitely not be appreciated.

Our drive had taken us into what should have been a more populated area of Visegrád, yet every building we passed showed zero signs of life. It was like the entire region had been wiped out seemingly overnight. I was just starting to feel the first twinges of uneasiness, as we passed yet another burnt out shell of a home, when Jun's Slavic accent came in over the COMS.

"Noble Leader, I'm picking up a distress signal."

"Patch it through," Carter ordered.

Our headsets crackled with static for a few seconds, before a panicked voice came to life.

"...Mayday! Three Charlie Six, does anyone read? We were attacked by Covenant forces. The Covenant is on Reach. I repeat: the Covenant is on Reach!"

"I don't believe it," I breathed. Carter had been right. Those sons of bitches had actually made it. I felt a stab of guilt then, I'd been more than ready to leave those troopers for dead. I quickly forced the feeling out of my mind, guilt wasn't something I needed.

"Jun, home us in on their position."

"No disrespect, but don't we have more important things to do than round up strays? Two and Four are almost at the relay. If we-"

"We don't leave people behind," Carter snarled, abruptly cutting Jun off and any quelling any similar thoughts I had.

As our truck roared up the road, I began to pick up the tell tale sounds of gunfire coming from a settlement ahead of us. Almost on queue a Spirit rushed by overhead, the propulsion generators humming, silent yet deafening all at once, almost sucking the air out from around us. It slowed to a standstill over the small cluster of structures, and Covenant began jumping from the carrier.

Carter pulled the truck up in the ditch at the edge of the road, and the three of us climbed out and ran for the shelter the buildings provided, while the Covenant started swarming everywhere. The Commander nailed a Skirmisher on one of the roof tops just as it was lining us up in the sights of its needle rifle, and the beast flew backwards out of view with a pained squawk. At the same time the hovering Spirit's auto-cannon began to whir and turned in our direction, catching us out in the open as we sprinted through the yard. A super heated plasma bolt hissed a few inches past my head, blowing up the fence behind me, and showering us in still flaming wood posts and splinters.

It was then that I saw two marines step out of hiding, one carrying a M41 rocket launcher across his shoulder. The soldier crouched down and locked his weapon onto the Spirit's substantial heat source. With a blast and a plume of grey smoke the missile climbed through the air and detonated against one of the Spirit's prong like arms, causing it to erupt in flames. The craft teetered in the air for a second, and then began a slow death spiral, crashing to the earth a few hundred meters away.

The marine unceremoniously tossed the weapon aside, grunting something to his companion about that having been their last rocket. His companion wasn't paying attention though, he was stepping towards us slack jawed, and I noticed the chevrons on his shoulder signifying him as a Sergeant.

"Spartans," he gasped. "I didn't think we rated that kind of a rescue."

"Thanks for the assist soldier," Jorge told him appreciatively.

"Y-yea, no problem-"

His stuttering was cut off abruptly when another Skirmisher jumped out from around a corner, and raised its gun with a shrill scream, causing the marine to stumble, fumbling for his rifle. The hushed sound of my SMG was the last thing the beast heard. A few indignant barks from a Sangheili sounded somewhere nearby, and I knew they were already regrouping, and would close in again any second.

"Perhaps you should invite us in?"

The marine nodded, pulling himself to his feet, grabbing the Private and gesturing for us to follow them inside. The sight that greeted me as I walked into that shelter brought back a powerful rush of memories. It had been well after dark when I was dropped onto the battlefield in Sargasso. The troopers there had been engaged with the Covenant forces for almost forty eight solid hours, and it was during this timeframe that the aliens had made the big reveal of their new Type-46 Spectre, basically a mobile weapons platform. These machines stalked the battlefield, raining plasma on our entrenched troops. Each battalion we'd deployed on the field came out of that conflict decimated. I'd killed a lot of freaks that day, and even had the opportunity to bring down a few of those Spectres, but in the end myself along with our remaining troops had been pulled out, and we'd watched from orbit as the colony was glassed.

The marines who were huddled together now had the same look to them as those devastated troopers on Sargasso.

All in all there were five of them still breathing, and everyone was wounded in some way or another. Even the two who had met us outside, I now noticed, were sporting soiled white bandages. There were two in particular who drew my attention as the worst of the lot.

A female trooper was holding one of her squad mates tight against her chest, and the man was biting down of the fabric of her collar, tears staining the material. His hands were clutching the stump what had once been his shin, now bandaged in a rough field dressing. Another man was propped up in the corner, his head lolling against his chest, and a large violent pink needle was protruding from his belly. It was only the painfully slow rise and fall of his chest that left any indication he was still alive. Our host knelt down next to this man and whispered something to him that actually brought a marred smile to the wounded man's face. The Sergeant kissed the man on the forehead and then stood to face us again.

"What's the status here soldier?" Carter asked, his tone was somewhat subdued.

The man let out a shaky breath before finding his voice.

"You can see for yourself. We've lost half our number, we have two in critical condition, and the rest of us are all injured somehow. The ammo has almost run dry, we just used the last of the rocket launcher, and we only have three rifle magazines left between us...They've been pecking at us all night. Our radioman was killed in the initial ambush, so we've had no way of getting any communication out of the valley."

Carter nodded in response and then turned to Jorge and myself.

"Jorge, use your biofoam, take Grim's as well, and do what you can for the critically wounded." He then pulled out his Magnum and handed it over to the trooper, who nodded gratefully and holstered the weapon in his belt. "Grim, take the Sergeant and set up whatever perimeter you can manage."

I gave confirmation and took the Sergeant outside, Carter was already getting on the COMS to Jun about evac. I was quite glad to be out of that room, and immediately began scoping out the theatre of war around us. Our shelter of choice was a small, single story building that opened out onto a communal garden in the centre of the settlement. There were a few rooftops the Covenant would likely make use of, but only a few entrances into the courtyard itself, although it was likely the enemy would just choose to drop in from above. The ruins of the Spirit were still smoking just outside the settlement, but I knew that it wouldn't deter the Covenant from sending in more drop ships. Nothing we could do about that.

For the Covenant already on the ground, the most likely point of attack was the major archway directly across from us.

"Alright Sergeant, give me some cover here. If you see _any _movement, shout out straight away, and don't hesitate to give them two in the chest and one in the head."

He hefted his assault rifle in affirmation, and I ducked quickly across the open yard, skidding to a stop only when I reached the targeted archway. I wasted no time pulling a grenade from my hip, and then an almost invisible tripwire from a reel in my soft case. I tied one end around the top of the grenade, and then took great care when I pulled the pin out, so that the spoon didn't spring loose. I delicately wedged the explosive against the base of the archway, so that the spoon was pressed up against the stone. Once I trailed the tripwire across the path and fastened it to the other side of the arch, I deftly sprinted back over to the Sergeant. He had found suitable cover in front of our holdout point, behind the low stone wall that ringed the entire garden.

Carter appeared from inside then, flanked by the Private who had brought the Spirit down, and the female trooper from inside. They both bore the same haggard but determined expressions.

"Jun says we have more Covenant inbound. The pilot can't risk landing until we clear the evac zone."

I crouched down to boost Jorge up onto the flat roof of our building, grunting at his weight, and then lifted his machine gun up to him. Carter, the Sergeant -whose name was something starting with S, I wasn't really paying attention-, and the female trooper all took up positions behind the low wall out the front. Myself and Private Rocket took up residence in one of the flanking structures in the courtyard, flipping a table up to form cover in one of the windows. The young man was chewing nervously on a stick of gum, and catching my eye he tore it in half and offered me a piece. He took the slow shake of my helmet as a 'no thank you'.

It wasn't long before it happened, it may have seemed like it, but in reality only a few minutes had passed. It was the clattering of the china in the cupboard behind me that tipped me off. And once again I experienced that deafening silence as the Spirits loomed overhead, their generators creating a pressure that caused my skull to ache.

With a challenging roar the massive armoured body of an Elite leaped from the hovering carrier and crashed down into the centre of the courtyard. The combined fire power of Carter, Jorge and the two marines slammed into it without missing a beat. My trooper went to raise his rifle but I pushed it back down, shaking my head again.

"Wait."

Three more Elites jumped from the craft, along with Grunts, Jackals and Skirmishers galore. Our courtyard was transformed into a free fire zone, and idly I wondered how the Covenant managed to cram so many bad guys into one transport.

Jorge's machine gun was rattling away, cutting a swathe in the amassed group of Covenant shock troops. Carter's shots were more calculated, scoring consistent headshots. In comparison the marines appeared a little amateur. I knew they weren't though, they had survived the whole night pinned down in this hell hole, regular troopers just tend to get overshadowed in the massive presence of a Spartan.

It was only when the Covenant forces already on the ground joined in the fight that my time came. The slinking form of a Kig-Yar Skirmisher appeared in the archway. It lifted on taloned foot to step through, and caught the tripwire in the movement, pulling the HE grenade free from its wedged position against the stone. The spoon sprung free and clattered to the ground at the Skirmishers feet, causing the beast's eyes to flicker down curiously and then widen in surprise.

The explosion brought the entire archway down, crushing who knows how many Grunts and Jackals who had begun pouring through. It also effectively cut off the main point of escape for the rest of the Covenant, trapping them inside the garden courtyard.

"Now," I nodded to Private Rocket.

The suppressed noise of my SMG was drowned out by the heavy metallic sound of his assault rifle, but both had a devastating effect on the enemy. They hadn't been expecting an attack from the side, so none of them had taken any form of cover to shield their flanks.

For a few seconds we turned the settlement into a blood path, the darker indigo from the slain Elites mixing with the more vibrant purple from the Kig-Yar and the bright blue from the Grunts. I finished the last of them with another grenade, and then our Falcons had their opening.

It was amazing how fast we went from fighting for our lives to clearing out of there. The first Falcon landed and collected our troopers, Jorge and I carrying the wounded to the craft. We gave them the all clear and the pilot took off, heading for the nearest UNSC outpost outside of Visegrád.

When our own Falcon landed, Jun leaned out and offered me his hand, pulling me up into my seat.

"Noble Two, sitrep?" Carter asked into the COMS as we got airborne, pulling away in the opposite direction the first Falcon had taken.

"Emile and I are at the relay outpost," came Kat's reply, "Door's locked. Mechanism's been flash-fused."

"Can you beat it?"

"I dialed up my torch, gonna cut a way through. It'll take some time."

"Okay, hang tight. We're en route to your location."


	6. Winter Contingency

**A/N: **Okay, so I'm seriously on a roll here. Let's hope I can keep it up. Uh, my beta is the best. And disclaimer: I don't own anything. Noble Six is still technically a canon character, I've just put my own spin on her.

**Chapter 5**

**Winter Contingency **

**10:36 Hours. July 24, 2552. Visegrád**

**Eden-B312**

We'd covered a lot of ground in our commandeered civilian transport, so it was a relatively short Falcon ride to the Visegrád Relay Outpost. It was set at the far end of the valley, built right into the mountains, and the dish itself was a massive construction.

"Commander, we've got Covenant ground forces closing in."

"Copy Emile, we'll be there soon. Where's Kat?"

"She's a little busy. Still working on that door. I didn't want to interrupt her, you know how she gets," Emile responded dryly, drawing a throaty chuckle from the sniper sitting next to me.

A few memories from Camp Currahee flashed back to me, and I couldn't hold Emile's wariness against him. Even I knew better than to get in Kat's way when she was working.

"We're approaching the COM outpost," the pilot suddenly cut in.

I readied my weapon. Emile hadn't been kidding about those Covenant. They were swarming the square just outside the outpost's entrance. I could make out Kat's crouched figure by the panel of the heavy security doors, obviously engrossed in her work, seemingly oblivious to the bullets and plasma flying around her. Emile was in cover nearby, bringing down enemies with his shotgun.

"Put us down," Carter calmly instructed the pilot.

"Uh, it's a little hot, sir-"

"Put her down," he cut the man off, surely.

The pilot grunted but didn't protest further, and our Falcon started a slow dive towards the action.

"Breaks over, guys."

We disbanded the Falcon, Jorge actually crushing a Grunt as he jumped out, and began fighting our way across the square to our two Spartans. I stuck close to the big guy, who was mowing them down with his massive turret, and picked off a few Jackals who were trying to sneak up on him. It was as I was finishing off the third one that my clip ran dry, and I found myself with no full magazines left. I quickly pulled out my SOCOM pistol and headshotted another freak, the round puncturing his eye and causing his head to snap back and forth as it rattled around inside his skull. I unsheathed my combat knife as well, holding it tactical style beneath the sidearm.

There were a few Troop 'Hogs parked around the entrance, and it was these that we found protection behind. Jun had remained in the Falcon, and was providing covering fire with his rifle from above.

"How we doing, Kat?" Carter called above the gunfire.

"Taking just a _little _longer than I'd hoped, Commander. I've cut about halfway through the door."

"Contact!" Emile shouted as a number of Elites found their way into the fight.

"Hold them off until Kat can hack the controls," Carter instructed, bringing his battle rifle over the top of the Warthog and firing off a burst.

"Doy! I was just gonna sit here twiddling my fucking thumbs."

By the look on the Commanders face, my sarcasm was most definitely not appreciated.

The Elites had finally managed to close the distance, and one was just looming over the top of my cover when Emile blasted its face off with his boomstick. A half second later though, another took its place, and bounded over the top of the Warthog. It threw a kick at me, which I was able to blocked, and then I knocked its plasma rifle away before it could perforate me. Enraged, it started swinging wildly, but I managed to twist its arm around into a locked position, and then brought myself around behind the beast and slit its throat in a smooth motion. It's heavy body crashed to the ground at my feet.

"_Kat,_" Carter called to the turquoise coloured Spartan, drawing her name out and taking the head off another Sangheili with a shot from his rifle.

"Just about...there. We're in!" She called back triumphantly.

"Everybody inside! Go go go!"

It was about time too. Banshees had just started swooping in overhead, and I'd put money down that Spirits were not far behind. I backed up through the now open blast doors, with Emile beside me, both of us firing out at the oncoming enemy. One Banshee dove in and launched a bright green bolt from its fuel rod cannon. The flash of green struck one of the Warthogs, and the vehicle exploded in massive ball of flames, being tossed high into the air.

"I think we should _shut the door_," I shouted.

Kat seemed to agree because she rushed over to the wall panel and slammed her fist down on the seal button. The heavy blast doors gave a mighty groan and began to slide closed. It took me a couple of seconds to comprehend the stupid fact that they were moving at about a snail's pace.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?"

We kept up a stream of fire, shooting down any Covenant troops that got to close, and Emile used a couple of grenades to keep the Elites at bay. The Banshee, however, was coming around for another strafing run, and if it got one of those fuel rod shots through the door we'd all be fried. Jorge brought his machine gun up as the Banshee started its run, and let out barrage of bullets that made short work of the craft's hull, turning the metal into Swiss cheese. Trailing black smoke, it careened through the air and crashed into the mountainside somewhere above us, raining sparks down on the square. The doors finally ground shut, immediately cutting off all sounds of chaos from outside.

"We need to find the control room. From there, Kat can get the relay back online. Emile, post up here. If we flush any hostiles, they're yours. Let's do this."

The corridors of the underground facility were almost pitch black, and we had to flick on the night vision mode in our visors to navigate through to the control room. I took the opportunity to grab an assault rifle off of a wall rack as we progressed, having my empty SMG slung over my back. It was almost a certainty that Covenant forces had managed to penetrate the outpost, and I was more comfortable with the extra firepower, rather than having to take on any opponents who might be waiting for us with just my backup and knife.

"Control room," Kat muttered as we approached an open set of doors. "Go easy."

Upon breaching the room we discovered the full extent of the damage the Covenant had done to the place. They had killed all the staff, and done a serious work over on the systems. We would actually be lucky if even a savant like Kat could get this place back up and running.

"Lieutenant, search that body for ID," Kat instructed me, pointing out the corpse of a grey haired man, while she quickly diverted her attention to the tech.

I nudged the body with my foot, rolling him over onto his back, and what appeared to be a small plastic computer chip fell out of his hand. I picked it up delicately off the floor, flipping it over in my hand and examining it.

Carter had found a lone security personnel slumped over in the corner, and miraculously he was still alive and conscious.

"Where's the rest of your unit?"

"We got split. I don't think they..." he sucked in a ragged breath, wincing a little. "It sounded bad on the COMS."

"All right, Corporal, stay put. We'll get you a combat surgeon."

The glint of silver I was holding must have caught Kat's eye, because she was suddenly in front of me, snatching the data module from my hands.

"I'll take that. Not your domain."

"You're welcome," I grunted.

"I've got a live one over here! Come on, out you come."

Jorge reached down with one hand into an open vent and pulled out a young girl, who was kicking at him while yelling in Hungarian.

"It's all right, we're not going to hurt you," he soothed her.

"Jorge..." Carter sighed, exasperated as the girl just attempted to punch the big man in the chest plate.

"Keep still, and I'll release you," he spoke calmly.

_"They are still here!" _She cried.

"Oh fuck-"

I didn't even get the whole sentence out. A group of Sangheili Zealots had been using the girl as live bait, and they suddenly sprung out of concealment, their active camouflage modules flickering out and revealing their hulking forms. A particularly large one, a Field Marshal if I wasn't mistaken, swung it's energy sword at Jorge, who ducked down, barely managing to avoid the blow while shielding the girl in his arms. The Field Marshal then turned its blade on Kat, and I thought for sure she was about to get cut in half, but Carter dived in, tackling Kat out of the way.

I took the opening and squeezed down on the trigger of my rifle, lighting up the Elite. I had managed to drain the monster's shields, but then it sprinted at me, shouldering me roughly to the ground and running for the door.

"Bad guy coming out!" Carter yelled through the COMS to Emile.

One of the three remaining Zealots took my downed state as an opportunity for an easy kill, and lunged onto me, extending its energy dagger. My gun had been knocked out of reach, but I managed to punch the Elite in the face, stunning it momentarily, before Carter kicked it off of me. It scrambled backwards across the floor, and Kat drained it's shields with her Magnum. Before she could finish it though, it snagged the wounded security officer and held him up as human shield. The other Zealots got behind their companion, and together they backed up towards a second set of doors, leading further into the base. Carter kicked me my assault rifle and I pulled myself to my feet, keeping the weapon trained on the retreating Elites.

_Fuck it._ I thought, and raised the rifle to fire.

"Grim, hold fire! They have a hostage!" Carter practically shouted, shoving me behind him. For some odd reason, a felt for a moment like a scolded child.

The Zealots walked backwards through the doors and quickly disappeared out of sight. The civilian girl had been shrieking the whole time, but even that wasn't enough to drown out the screams of the now unnecessary officer the Elites had been using as a shield, nor the sickening _snap_ when they broke his neck.

"Good call, _sir_!"

"Can it!" Carter snarled.

"That tango blew past me. Permission to pursue?" Emile suddenly came through the COMS.

"Negative Four, stay on the entrance. Two, handle her," Carter ordered Kat, who had replaced Jorge, hanging onto the panicked girl. "Five and Six, clear the hole."

Jorge slapped his massive hand down onto my shoulder, breaking the death glare I'd been directing at our Commander.

"Come on, Six."

He pulled me over to the door the Elites had made their escape through, and together we stepped through, checking our corners. Jorge then sealed it behind us, we couldn't afford to let anything back through.

We had entered a large corridor, which looked like it lead down into the guts of the relay. Jorge pulled out a flare and tossed it down the hallway, illuminating the area in an ominous red glow. The light drew one of the Elites out of hiding, where it had been crouched behind a crate. The freak stood up and fired off a round from the concussion rifle it was carrying, forcing Jorge and myself to duck our heads to avoid the blast.

I returned fire with my rifle, forcing it further up the corridor and out into the open. Jorge opened up with his machine gun, and the creature howled in pain and dived down one of the branching hallways.

"Move up," the big man whispered to me.

I nodded and crept my way up the passage, using discarded crates for cover where I could. Reaching the point where the Elite had disappeared, I came to a stop and poked my head around the corner. The passageway opened up into a larger room which seemed to house the outpost's power generators. And sure enough the Elites had taken shelter in there. Another concussion round came whizzing out of the room and shattered the concrete where my head had been a second ago. Jorge dashed up to me, with surprising speed for such a bulky guy, and took cover on the other side of the doorway.

"Three of them," I muttered.

"Right, well, flush 'em out. I've got you covered."

I threw him a disparaging glance, but knew he was right. I was faster, and a much smaller target. I'd have to be the one to do it.

Sighing, I refreshed the magazine of my rifle, and steeled myself for the assault. Jorge held up his hand, mouthing the words as he counted down with his fingers.

_'Three...two...one.' _

I leapt around the corner and sprinted for the nearest cover inside, narrowly avoiding a torrent of blue plasma as I slid behind a large power box. Jorge's death machine fired at the same time, and I caught a glimpse of two of the aliens getting practically sawn in half by armour piercing bullets. Then there was the all too familiar rasp of an energy sword being drawn, and the last Zealot decided to make a push for me. He jumped around the power box I'd dove behind, and swung the sword at my head. I managed to duck just in time, and the energy blade cut deep into the metal of the conduit, sending sparks flying, and effectively shorting the sword out. The Elite looked bewildered as it took in the now useless weapon in its hand. I just grinned behind my visor, pressed the barrel of my rifle into its chest, and pulled the trigger.

"Don't tell me you actually planned that," Jorge said as he regrouped with me.

"Happy accident," I chuckled.

He shook his head in wonder and tapped into the COMS.

"Noble Five reporting. Contacts neutralized."

* * *

"How long?" Carter asked Kat. We were back in the control room, waiting for the Lieutenant Commander to get the relay back online, or at least whatever was salvageable.

"Question of my life," she replied, tiredly. "If the question is when will this station be back online, two weeks, earliest. This is plasma damage. All major uplink components are fried."

"Two minutes is too long."

"Which is why I'm splicing into the main overland bundle to get you a direct line to Colonel Holland," she told him, then glanced up at the hovering Commander with an annoyed grunt. "You're in my light."

Carter paced the length of the room back and forth for a few moments, then stopped and turned to me.

"Find out what she knows," he pointed to the small girl who was now huddled in the corner.

I gave him a skeptical look, but when his expression didn't budge, I walked over and knelt down in front of the girl, leaning my weight on my SMG.

_"What's your name?"_ I asked in Hungarian, trying to keep my voice quiet and unthreatening.

She glanced up at the sound of my voice, either surprised by my gender or simply the fact I spoke her language. She quickly averted her gaze though, going back to staring down at her clasped hands, her mouth drawn into a thin line. I was surprised to see she wasn't actually all that much younger than myself, maybe 19 or so.

With a weary sigh, I pulled my helmet off and rested it on the ground beside me, my silvery blonde hair falling free down to my chin. A few idle strands drifted into my eyes and I blew them out of the way with a quick huff.

A surprised grunt from Emile's direction drew my attention, and I realized this was the first time that most of these guys were seeing my actual face.

Ignoring that, I reached out and grabbed the girl by the chin, turning her face up so I could meet her eyes. They widened substantially as they took in my features. People always found it disconcerting to see a Spartan's face. Something about our surprising youth or unnatural looking eyes was supposedly unnerving. The scars didn't help either. Every Spartan sported a large collection of scars, and I was no expectation. I had a long one running down my chin, the result of a particularly nasty Skirmisher and it's long hooked talons. Another larger one cut horizontally across my left cheek, reaching back almost to my ear. That had been left by an energy dagger, from my first run in with an Elite.

_"How old are you?" _The girl asked.

_"That's classified." _I smirked. _"What's your name?"_

"_Sára..."_

_"He a friend of yours?" _I tilted my head towards the corpse by the door, the one I'd searched earlier.

"_Father." _

_"_I'm sorry_." _Jorge murmured, interrupting my next question.

_"Why should you be?" _She spat, throwing him a dark look.

Emile's deep, booming laugh echoed around the room. He couldn't have known what her reply had been, but her bitter tone spoke volumes.

"Big man forgets what he is sometimes," he told me, still chuckling.

"She just lost her father." Jorge said scathingly. "She needs a full psychiatric workup."

"She's not the only one."

"Cool it, both of you," Carter cut in, losing his patience.

_"Your old man worked here, yes?"_ I asked her, drawing her attention away from the other Spartans. She nodded. _"What were you doing here?"_

_"I was bringing him dinner last night, he works late and always forgets to eat..." _she trailed off, possibly realizing her tense was wrong.

_"How did the attack happen?"_

_"I don't know. It...it was all so fast."_

I sighed and leaned back on my haunches, looking up at Carter and giving him a small shake of my head. This girl couldn't tell us anything.

"Signal," Catherine suddenly came in. "It's patchy, but it's there."

"I'll take it," Carter breathed a sigh of relief.

"Just...don't touch anything, okay? You wouldn't want to ground this place."

Kat left the Commander to it, gesturing for the rest of us to follow her out. I reached down and offered my hand to Sára, and she tentatively took it. I pulled her to her feet and walked her in front of me as I trailed behind the others. I caught the first moments of the Commander's conversation as he linked up to Colonel Holland.

"...I'm barely getting you. What's your situation, over?"

"Colonel, this is Noble One. There are no rebels. The Covenant are on Reach. Acknowledge?"

"Come again, Noble One? Did you say _Covenant_?"

"Affirmative. It's the WINTER CONTINGENCY."

"...May God help us all."


	7. Painland

**A/N: **Always thank you to my beta, thelittlestteacup. Disclaimer: I own nothing.

**Chapter 6**

**Painland**

**16:25 Hours. July 24, 2552. Military Reservation 01478-B.**

**Eden-B312 **

I stood at the centre of a small white washed room in the military reservation which Noble Team often used as a semi-permanent home base. The official name for the camp was...something with lots of numbers. But the marines and ODST who trained here fondly referred to the place as _'Painland'_. Two black garbed technicians were flitting around me, working on removing my Mjolnir suit while I remained perfectly still, legs apart and arms raised at my sides. I'd tried to explain to them that I could manage it by myself, I'd had enough practice with it in the past, working on my own, and so I found it a little disconcerting having a team of people worry over me. They hadn't wanted to hear it though.

"And...there!" The technician grinned triumphantly up at me. She was a tiny little thing, maybe 5'2, if that, and my 7 foot frame towered over her. She didn't seem the slightest bit bothered by it though.

The last piece, my chest plate, came off with a slow hiss. It felt indescribably awkward, standing there in just my bodysuit. I flexed my arms about, trying to remove the tension left behind from being motionless for so long, and the action just felt _wrong_. Our suits read our neural impulses and work with us; otherwise, even with our enhanced strength, we'd be almost incapable of movement inside the half ton of armour. The sensation I experienced when out of suit was sort of like I was walking through water.

The technician must have been used to working with Spartans, probably having gone through the same procedure with my predecessor many times before, because she gave me a sympathetic smile.

"Must feel pretty weird, huh?"

"You have no idea," I muttered, then turned my gaze to technician number two, who was carting away my armour. "Hey, be careful with that, okay?"

He nodded, "It'll be safe, B312."

The door slid open to reveal my new Commander just outside. He skirted to the side as the man pushed the cart out and headed down towards the armoury, and then he took a single step into the room. He was clothed only in his bodysuit as well, and looked about how I felt.

"Lieutenant, come on. I'll give you the tour."

I followed him out and we made our way through the camp's polished walkways. It was a large facility, constructed deep in the highlands of Eposz, and from outside you could almost make out the distant space elevators around New Alexandria. Massive carbon nanofiber tethers that climbed thousands of kilometers into the sky, connecting to space stations above the planet. I personally hated the fucking things. The Covenant had a nasty habit of severing them with their battlecruisers and sending giant structures crashing back down into the cities below.

Carter and I were, of course, drawing some unusual looks as we progressed through the halls, even a few malicious glances from some passing ODST trainees. The Helljumpers had always felt a bit of a rivalry towards us Spartans. Before we came along they were considered "the best of the best", and then afterwards, they just became "the best of the rest". However, I had never had a problem with the orbital drop shock troopers. I'd shared a number of battlefields with them in the past, and they never failed to make an impression. Plus they sure as Hell knew how to make an entrance. Dropping out of orbit? How are you supposed to beat that? If anything, you couldn't deny that ODST's definitely had style.

The wall on our left transformed into a large set of glass windows, which overlooked some of the training grounds themselves. I noticed a particularly large portion of land below us, the ground muddy and churned, and a platoon of exhausted looking marines were crawling along it beneath coils of razor wire, with a few dozen machine guns spitting out bullets just inches above their heads.

"The _'razor field'_," Carter told me, noting my interest.

"Well that just makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, doesn't it?"

"I forgot that you Betas had it easy back in Currahee," he muttered.

"_Easy?_" I snorted, "In comparison to whom? Alpha? Please. You guys may have been the first Spartan-IIIs, but that doesn't count for anything. Trust me, Ambrose and Mendez learned from the mistakes they made with Alpha Company when they were training us."

"We'll just have to agree to disagree, Lieutenant."

A discontented grunt was my only response to that, and turning away from the windows, we wordlessly continued our walk. Carter took me into a relatively secluded section of the camp, which the present Spartans had been given access to use as a living area of sorts. It simply consisted of a moderately small series of compartments, each containing a bunk and the basic facilities. Still, this alone was a luxury which we rarely saw. I myself was usually just bounced around among various frigates and cruisers between the colony worlds. The only 'rooms' I was ever given were cryo-chambers. Other than the bunks, there was also a slightly larger communal area. Pretty much just a bare space with a couple of mess tables for meals, which the rest of Noble Team were sitting around already.

A couple of things caught my eye in here, and the first was Emile. This was the first time I'd been graced to see the man without his custom decorated EVA helmet on. His dark skin was marred by numerous crisscrossing scars, and while his hair was neatly shaved down to an inky black buzz, he'd let his facial hair grow out into a rough goatee. He was idly picking at his food, and seemed restless, probably just itching to get back in a fight. The second thing I noticed was an ONI woman over in the corner, crouched down in front of a familiar brunette teenage girl, obviously trying to coach her into eating something.

"Technically we still have custody of her," Carter leaned in and intoned to me. "Sára will stay here for the night, and then she'll be shipped off to New Alexandria in the morning. She has relatives there."

"Good to know," I mumbled.

After our little chat, the girl had gone practically catatonic. I'd had to carry her to the Falcon, and she'd just sat there next to me rigidly for the entire flight, completely oblivious to the world around her. From the look of it, things hadn't improved much since then. I'd thought she'd be taken somewhere specific, surely they'd have better accommodations for her, but apparently the Colonel thought it would be easier to just throw her in with us.

I moved across the room and took up the empty seat next to Kat. Her robotic arm looked even stranger when her armour was off. It had an almost skeletal appearance. I'll confess, I was impressed with the way she handled the limb, like she'd had had it for years instead of mere weeks. She'd sustained the injury on Fumirole, to a strafing Banshee's fuel rod cannon. I grabbed a tray of food from the centre of the table -oh how I love UNSC ration packs- and we all ate in near silence for a few minutes. It was only broken occasionally when Jorge would try to start a conversation, though these never lasted long. I always felt a little lost at times like this, out of combat. We'd been trained for missions our entire lives, and it was all we knew. I don't think there has ever been such a thing as a retired Spartan.

I was the first to stand, and when I did, Carter stood with me. He gestured for me to follow him, and then lead me over to the compartments that housed our bunks.

"Yours is the third on the left. Thom's stuff was cleared out awhile ago, so the strongbox is empty." He went to leave, but then suddenly turned back to face me. "Oh, and Emile is right across from you. Don't go through his stuff, okay? He's sort of protective of his 'trophies'."

I raised an eyebrow dubiously, and Carter gave a resigned sigh.

"Well, okay, technically the UNSC would class them as 'Covenant contraband'. But I think the Colonel is choosing to ignore all the laws he's in violation of."

"Right," I muttered. "Don't touch the shiny stuff."

"Get some sleep, Lieutenant."

* * *

I sprung up with a jolt, my eyes flickering around the darkened room. I could still almost feel the heat of the flames.

_Nothing_.

Groaning, I slumped back down onto my bunk, turning my head to check the time on the clock next to me. The glowing blue numbers read 7:00AM. I'd slept for nearly twelve straight hours, a feat I hadn't achieved since...since before I got my augmentations. Since before I was even recruited for the Spartan-III training. It hadn't been exactly restful though. I felt like I'd been clawing just beneath the surface on consciousness for some hours.

I decided it was about time I got up. Soon, we'd either be deployed once more, or the Colonel would make the choice to pull me from Noble Team. It would probably be better that way, easier for everyone involved. I stepped out into the mess hall, running a hand through my sleep tousled hair, and the faces of Noble greeted me with a mixture of expressions. Friendly, neutral, enigmatic, cold and just plain bored.

"Well, someone slept in. How're you feeling, Six?" Jorge asked me.

"God, I'm just so used to cryo...I guess it's good to be able to get some sleep on my own terms."

"I hear ya," the big man chuckled.

Kat was sitting with her feet kicked up on one of the tables, she was holding a needle like tool in one hand, and the data module I'd discovered in the other, obviously studying the device. I thought it best not to mention how she should have turned it in to ONI first thing. I couldn't see Sára anywhere, so I assumed she'd already been hauled off to New Alexandria. I wondered idly if she'd even be safe there. If this really was the start of an all out Covenant invasion...

Our attack dog and the Commander had clearly just finished up a sparring match. The tables had been pushed to the sides of the room, and both men were looking a little out of breath, Carter maybe just a bit more so than the other Spartan. Emile looked over at me and his eyes suddenly lit up with barely concealed eagerness.

"Hey, Six, get over here. Our Commander all mighty says he's had enough, you feel like going a few rounds?"

"She just woke up, Emile. Give her a break," Jorge muttered.

I considered it for a few moments. My sleep may have been a little disjointed, but I was actually feeling rather well rested. Sort of. And I couldn't deny that I'd been wondering how Emile and I might stand up to one another.

"You know what? I'm game. Let's do this."

I noticed Jun lean forward a little from his observant position against the far wall. Even Kat looked up from her tinkering. Emile was grinning wolfishly at me as I took the floor in front of him, and he dropped into a loose combat stance. I mimicked him, and we slowly began circling one another.

He lashed out suddenly, lunging forward with a jab and a hook that carried with devastating speed. Not quite fast enough though, I weaved out of the way and placed a quick kick to his thigh.

"So...'_Grim'_," he grunted, "how'd you get a name like that anyway?"

I blocked another one of his furious attacks, and then took the offensive, landing a few body shots and gaining a few metres ground.

"She picked it up a few years after she left Beta," Kat chimed in, acerbically. "What I heard was that some ONI officer was using her as his own personal _'Grim Reaper'_."

I faltered for a second, and then paid for it when Emile's fist connected with my cheek. That was going to leave a bruise.

"You see, Four, our new number Six has quite the reputation...as an _assassin_. There is a lot of black ink in her file."

To his credit, Emile didn't seem like he was taking much of this in. He was more focused on bringing me down with a flurry of knees and elbows that were beating me back until my shoulders were almost pressed against the wall. I waited for the perfect moment, my timing had to be precise, and then sent out a jab that caught him just above the jugular with my second row of knuckles, causing him to express a spluttering choking sound. Balling my hand into a fist again, I stepped forward and punched him directly in the nose, knocking him backwards and creating some room between us. I used the given space to take a half leap, bringing my fist forward and kicking the corresponding leg back at the same time to give the blow some extra power. The first punch had softened it up, and with this one I heard his nose give out a satisfying crunch. He stumbled back in a daze, bringing a hand up to his face. He gave me a disbelieving look when it came away with blood on it.

"Well, I like her," Jun chuckled, unexpectedly.


End file.
